


I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

by Thesuncameouttoday



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A ton of making out, Ep 1 fix it, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Parenthood, Wait. That's all the time they're gonna give her to grieve?! : A reaction, because why not, season 8 changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:28:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesuncameouttoday/pseuds/Thesuncameouttoday
Summary: “How do you manage to do that?” Jon mumbled, mesmerized at how she’d somehow made a gargantuan creature curl around her like a lost puppy, basically wagging his tail for attention.She shrugged. “They’re my children,” she said simply, smiling at his look of amazement.





	I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love

**Author's Note:**

> Rather than ranting about how every Dany scene should've been longer in that episode, I decided to be productive (as a counteraction to studying for exams) and write my feelings out.

Dany was worried to say the least. 

Qhono had given her the dire news about her sons not eating when she’d been speaking with Jon, frustrated with the cold attitudes of the Northerners. 

He’d warned her during their trip to White Harbour that they were a stubborn lot. 

_“No one is as bullheaded as us Northerners,” he’d chuckled, caressing her cheek._

_Dany bit her lip, heart thudding at the soft look in her Northern man’s eyes, with his deep dimples and wide grin. “I will manage Jon Snow, don’t you worry,” she murmured with a touch of regality. “If I can convince you, then they are easy work.”_

_Jon grinned, wickedly, before licking a line up her soft neck. “Am I that much of a brute to you, Your Grace?” he asked teasingly, fingers tightening their hold onto the flesh of her thick hips._

_Dany shivered at the pawing touch. “Hmm…” she mumbled almost drunkenly, closing her eyes in the content moment, “You haven’t seen my true charm, Jon Snow. They will be calling me queen in a day’s time, that I promise.”_

_Jon quirked a brow. “Really?” he looked at her doubtfully, opening his mouth to retort but halting at the determined look on her face._

_He decided to nod instead, pride filling his chest at the thought. “Aye, you might just. There’s really nothing you can’t do.”_

She’d led him up with her along the wide planes of Winterfell, only brushing her hand against his after they were further and further away from the crowd of the castle and bustle of folks working. 

Dany’s eyes watered suddenly when she found her sons looming by a snowy hill, each only nibbling on the remains of their food. Their sallow faces thumped down onto the crushed snow, thick and robust scales reflecting the sun that was almost completely swallowed by the horizon.

It had taken her days to convince them to eat after Viserion. 

_Viserion_ , her sweet sweet boy. The one who only wanted love and affection, always desperate to shove his brothers away to get near her gentle palms. 

When Jon’s brother had informed her, as if her child becoming a slave to that murderous creature was a miniscule thing, the air had been knocked out of her lungs. 

She had wanted to cry, to scream, to mount Drogon so she could kill the Night King herself. She wanted to sob into the chilly air of Winterfell’s ground, cry for her poor innocent boy.

But she’d maintained herself, knowing she’d already formed enemies just by stepping into the gates of Winterfell, she was not going to let them have a reason to deem her weak. So, she’d swallowed thickly at his cold words, begging her body to not collapse into the harsh ground of the dull castle. 

“Why are they not eating?” Jon asked through huffs, winded from the uneven heaps of snow and frigid winds. 

Dany brought her palms up, praying their anger had maybe lessened from before. That they’d coo for her like prior times when they were just babes, nuzzling their snouts into her welcoming palms. 

Rhaegal eyed her for a moment before a growl vibrated the ground below her, plunging daggers in her heart. At the very least Drogon still touched her, eyes hardened with anger but still filled with love for her. He defeatedly grazed her fingers, no matter what they still loved her, he seemed to say under purrs and growls. 

_They still love me.They are hurt but they still want their mother._

Dany felt her throat grow with an ache before turning towards Jon, suddenly surprised. For Rhaegal was inching towards Jon, making him stumble nervously in order to get away as calmly as he could. 

“What-”

Dany caught his flailing arm, pausing his momentary fumbling to place his palm on her son’s snout. 

He fascinated her, this Jon Snow. No one had experienced being this near her sons without them becoming hostile and protective, teeth blaring for anyone who dared. 

And yet…Dany’s breath hitched as she watched Rhaegal soften up, wings curling like when he was a child, a song-like purr rumbling from his throat. 

Jon chuckled with amazement, meeting her eyes with wide and in awe ones. “How-” he shook his head, dazed, “why are they not trying to kill me?” he asked, mouth gaping at the gentle touches of Rhaegal’s wet snout. 

She felt herself bubble with anger at the statement but seeing his dumbfounded look of awe made Dany stop herself. He didn’t mean it in vain, he never really did. “They know you won’t harm their mother,” she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder as she smiled. “They know their mother trusts you.”

“She does?” he asked with the turn of the head, as if not convinced. His stiff hand did not move an inch as Rhaegal continued on, stringy drool dripping down Jon’s knuckles. 

Dany pulled him by the belt of his gauntlet, mischievous grin erupting on her face suddenly. “Who else would dare touch a dragon?” she asked, rising on her toes to capture his cold lips. He tasted of the crisp water Winterfell provided, and the pungent ale that made her nostrils burn when she swept her tongue over the expanses of his mouth. The flavour was steadily becoming intoxicating, warming every nerve-end in Dany’s body. 

She felt his gloved hand run down her back till it rested low on her back, palm pressing her closer. It’s what he tended to do when particularly possessive, like the night before they reached White Harbour. Reluctance to leave their built-paradise conflicting with his pure desire to take his two younger siblings in his arms, like he so often mentioned. 

When Dany began seeing stars in her vision she breathlessly pulled away from his grip, chuckling with a blush at the child-like pout on his red and swollen lips after not being able to catch her lips in time.

“I’ve missed you.” He grumbled, pressing his forehead against hers with closed eyes. “And this new coat of yours makes you even more irresistible, you know?” He added, cocking his head back with genuine frustration. Brown eyes trailed down the white furs and red lining of her stiff coat, head shaking when his gaze returned upon her flushed face. 

Dany smirked. “Well when we get back inside, I’ll let you chuck it right off of me,” she added wickedly, “if that’s any consolation.” 

“Gods,” he groaned with a look of pain, making them both laugh as his thumb hooked onto her long silver chain, “you’re going to drive me mad woman.” 

She pecked his lips. “Good.”

The open North truly was his element, she realized. Dany hadn’t ever witnessed him this content even on their ship. The alert eyes and discomforted body of two hours ago in the Great Hall was now replaced with relaxed shoulders and bleary eyes from the frigid cold winds. Lazy smile never leaving for too long from his lips, and the creases of his forehead thankfully appearing for the rare second.

The comforting image suddenly made guilt pool within Dany’s heart, a frown cresting her lips. The prospect of taking him away from this place after the war...To drag a man at peace all the way South to a polluted and overcrowded ball of sticky heat just to suffer with perfumed aristocrats? It wasn’t fair. But did she have the strength to be so far apart from him either? 

“What?” Jon asked, probably having noticed her guilt-ridden expression. 

Dany shook her head, slipping away from his form before putting on a smile again. “Just thinking.”

Jon wasn’t buying it-they both knew-but they were happy in this fleeting time. Before they dutifully had to return to the real world of angry arrogant men, so he let it go.

Drogon’s rumble caught their attention, making Dany edge towards him. 

She could feel their irritation at being stuck here, in these somber hills of snow and ice where nothing intriguing happened. They needed to explore, to hunt, but she wasn’t at all willing to let them go too far without her eyes checking on their location. 

An idea popped into her mind, exciting her. 

“Would you like to take a ride with me?” she questioned, catching Jon who was watching her heatedly off guard. He stumbled a step back with wide eyes when trying to size up Drogon and Rhaegal. The amount his head tilted back caused his mouth to gape open, terror clear on his face. “I don’t think they will let me.” His voice squeaked with a plea to not make him do this, which, consequently made Dany want him to do it even more. 

“Oh c’mere,” she exasperated, grabbing his trembling arm determinedly. She pecked his cheek, whispering into his ear, “You’re safe with me, always.” 

Jon watched her big enthusiastic eyes reluctantly before nodding, squeezing his eyes shut with an _-I’m-going-to-regret-this-_ look. 

She took his hand in hers, walking them over to Drogon’s waiting paw. Her son seemed surprised too, eyes widening as he realized with a huff of hot air that Jon was mounting him too. 

“You see that!” Jon whisper-screamed, eyes basically bulging from their sockets with horror. He cried, “Seven Hells, he’s going to chuck me right off mid-air!”

“Stop being dramatic,” she scolded him with the roll of her eyes, withholding the sheer amusement she was feeling. The same man that could charge head-first into a battle against wights without the blink of an eye was somehow intimidated by her goofy and soft-hearted son. Go figure. 

With a tug he climbed on after her onto Drogon’s large paw, wincing every two seconds when the dragon’s glassy eyes turned to watch his movements. She instructed him to mirror her steps on the same scales before she gracefully sat in her regular spot. 

He watched, breathlessly and amazed from his wobbly vantage point. “Is there anything you can’t do with absolute poise?” 

She sniggered. “Stop delaying this and get on behind me! They’re already getting impatient.” At the thought of what an impatient Drogon could possibly do he bolted from his spot to behind her, squirming in his seat. 

“Ouch!” he cried out, groaning as a particularly sharp spike pressed into his cladded thigh. “He hates me Dany, I’m tellin’ you.”

All Dany did was chuckle, stomach erupting with butterflies as she felt his back press against hers and large palm seated low on her belly when he stiffened with utter terror. 

“Prepare to have your life changed forever, Jon Snow.” She said with a firm grip on Drogon’s hide. 

And they soared high in the sky. 

~

Her ears were throbbing with pain by the time they landed in the frozen field. 

_Gods_ , she never expected him to be such a screamer. Well…not when riding a _real_ dragon at least. 

The minute Drogon had taken off Jon let out a thundering yelp that escalated with each flap of her son’s wings. When the clouds spread out before them, he began unabashedly screaming, hands painfully digging into Dany’s stomach as he slid back and forth from Drogon’s tugs. 

“I’M GOING TO DIE,” he bellowed, somehow louder than the howling wind around them, “THIS WAS A TERRIBLE IDEA, DANY!” 

Dany winced with every loud syllable escaping his mouth, cursing under her breath with a scowl before remembrance of her own terror of initially climbing her son’s back kept her mum. The only difference really had been that she, unlike her poor Jon, had been _slightly_ more graceful with her reaction. 

His squalling, squirming, and screaming only halted when they thankfully felt Drogon’s paws thump onto the ground, creating a cloud of snow around them from the force. 

Dany snapped her neck around, lips pursed in a thin line as she silently shot daggers in his direction with big angry eyes. 

Jon’s look of horror fell within a second when he looked upon her face, gulping sheepishly. “Sorry,” he mumbled thickly, still visibly shaken and petrified. “I uh, may have under-anticipated how high we’d go.” 

His trembling chest rose and fell with deep inhales and exhales, hands hesitantly moving from the tops of her thighs.

If she hadn’t witnessed with her own eyes how much like a wet, scared puppy he looked, she’d have screamed bloody-murder in his ears, scolding him for basically bursting her ear drums.

But the only thing that bursted forward was a bubbling heap of giggles from her throat.

It rose out of nowhere and spilled too fast for her to contain. And suddenly she was turning in her spot, bending over onto her crouched legs with a loud laughter. 

“Wait… _what_?” Jon watched her incredulously, still frozen. 

“I-” she shook her head as the laughter wracked through her body, making her shoulders shake as she tried forming sensical words, “you looked-”. But then she’d remember his scream, and would begin wheezing again, hand clamping onto her mouth to try consoling the giggles. 

Jon’s incredulous face slowly morphed into an unabashed smile, joining her fits with his own soft chuckle. Before long he let out a snort, laughing at his own poor fate as well. 

“Not the most impressive moment in my life, I must admit,” he laughed out, watching her with crinkled and happy eyes, before seeing his words make her double-down even more. 

It made no sense, and Dany did not even try to think into it. 

She felt light, lighter than the feeling of breathing in the crisp sky’s air when she was on Drogon’s back, or braiding Missandei’s soft curls as they giggled about some stupid thing that had happened that day. 

It was like her veins were filled with fresh warmth and her heart elevated from burden upon burden. Like she was a child again, laughing with Vis as they mocked some pompous and ridiculous merchant, they’d met that day.

It took her another five minutes to breathe normally again, stomach aching with pain by the time her last fit of laughter had slowed down. 

When she looked up at him, wiping away stray tears she felt her breath hitch, grin transforming into a blush at the heated look he was giving her. Hands resting lazily behind him on Drogon’s hide and eyes in his tilted head watching with a concoction of amusement, lust, and unadulterated love. 

She flushed, suddenly shy and very aware of how much she’d lost control. 

“Sorry,” she said back to him awkwardly, shoulders falling sheepishly. Her hand pushed back a strand of loose hair, “I got a little lost there.” 

“No.” He said immediately, tugging her closer by palms on her thighs. He shook his head, eyes still transfixed on her every facial movement. Jon’s voice almost faltered as he whispered softly, with a look of utter awe and devotion at the goddess wrapped around him, “I’ve never seen a more beautiful sight.”

~

“This is where I used to hunt actually,” Jon mentioned, breaking the content silence they’d formed. 

The sights were so stunning, so unlike the desolated melancholy of beyond the wall that all she could do was slacken her jaw at the scenery. Where there, she felt a pit of unsettling terror and loneliness at the isolation and blue tint of evil and unnatural cold, here she felt like her lungs could breathe easier, the peach-tinted sun glowing like artwork against the shiny and squished snow. No wonder Jon raved about the North so much. 

“With your father?” she asked, feeling his hand catch hers, fingers interlocking with her smaller ones with the swing of his arms.

He looked ahead in contemplation, tilting his head. “Sometimes. More than often it would be Robb, Theon, and I.” He added quickly, lips cracking down suddenly. “Of course, with a steward or common Lord. Lady Stark would _never_ had let her firstborn son trek alone with the bastard and the hostage,” he quipped with a healthy amount of self-depreciation Dany had come to realize he believed was justified. 

She bit her lip as they walked, hesitant to pry on the sensitive bruise. Even on the ship, when they’d touch on past incidences that welled tears in their eyes, he never truly spoke of his father’s wife. At the name he’d tense, fumbling before attempting to shift the subject around. 

Though there was no reason to complain really, she refused to speak about her childhood as well. The thought of bringing back a time where Viserys was a good brother, one who cared for her, one who’d give her more bread from the scraps they’d find was too much. Looking back at a man who could’ve been her best friend, her partner and brother was more painful than any obstacle she’d faced afterwards.

“Did you ever take your sisters?” Dany chose to ask instead, reluctant to see that smile disappear while she took breath. 

It worked, for Jon quirked his lips once again. He looked down at his feet suddenly as they walked, squeezing her enclosed hand as he chuckled to himself. “Aye,” he shook his head in thought, a hint of mischief on his lips, “sometimes I’d sneak Arya out here, whenever Lady Stark or the Septa weren’t looking. We’d run to the kitchens and steal some cheese and bread before running off from the side of the castle.” He paused, grinning to himself before regarding Dany. The look made her heart flutter, a sense of content and joy from past events painted his face in a way she’d ached for as a child. Something good to remember, something childish and free. Dany had to always put survival and family over both. 

Jon continued on, interrupting the sadness that wanted to wash over her thoughts. “She loves the North as much as me, the trekking, the riding. Well at least she used-” He stopped suddenly, jolting Dany’s clasped hand in the process. His face began to crease with a look that worried her at nights, almost of horror, but more related to the devastating sense that time was catching up to him. He met her eyes, breathless and panicked. 

“I don’t know her anymore.” He huffed out; eyes wide. “I-I don’t know any of them anymore, Dany.” His shoulders were rising and falling at a dangerous pace when his lip began trembling. “I know Arya,” he said in disbelief, speaking to her but not necessarily talking to her, “she-she’s Arya! How different could she be now?” 

Dany didn’t know what he wanted to hear, a lie of omission or spiral-causing admittance. So, she stuck for something in-between. She placed a hand on his face gently, hoping she could convey the words in a way that made sense. 

“No one…” she paused, licking her lips in contemplation as she earnestly looked into his panicked big brown eyes, “We don’t often want to know how the ones we loved have changed, for better or for worse. But isn’t family about accepting people for what they are?” she spoke softly, almost cooing to him. “Would you rather know her truly, all the bad good parts, or would you rather pretend that she is still your baby sister who hasn’t seen the world?”

Dany knew his answer before he spoke, but still gave him time to let it sink in. He shut his eyes tightly, sighing. “I want to know who she is.” He nodded, not just to her but to himself. “I want to know every good, bad, terrible, and odd thing that has ever happened to her, aye.” 

“Good,” Dany smiled proudly, “I’m glad they have a brother like you.” The jealousy swirling in her belly refused to subside, the feeling bubbling up her to her heart till it touched her veins. She didn’t know his siblings really, but the prospect of having someone like Jon who unconditionally loved them from the moment they were born made her fill with spite. 

_It was unfair,_ she finally confessed to herself. _I deserved a good brother too._ But then she thought of Missandei, Grey Worm, and even Tyrion and she remembered the family she’d built herself. People who loved her no matter how much she doubted it. And now she’d be able to add Jon to that unfortunately short list. _It will grow, maybe slowly but it will flourish._

Jon covered her palm on his cheek with his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss gently. His lips like a balm to the sting in her heart and mind, reminding her that there were chances. Futile, but they had a chance. 

“I want to show you something,” he murmured, eyes light with excitement. 

They walked once again, Jon’s mood more upbeat and determined. He pointed towards every small fixture in the white land, laughing through his anecdotes from years ago when his life’s biggest concern was hair growing on his chest. She could listen to his Northern burr for days, the voice tingling her senses and fattening her pupils with every new word. 

“Ah, we’re here,” he pulled her excitedly behind him till they turned the corner towards a sight so beautiful Dany’s breath hitched. 

It was what old books in Pentos (the ones written about the Northern and Eastern landscape) called a waterfall. Alluring was the best word she could wield as a description.

It was surreal, this feature created by nature, the pounding rush of gallon of water crushed onto the icy ground underneath before being toppled by even more water.

The sound was calming to Dany, like nothing else had ever been. Almost like a song it had a pattern, the water guzzling down against the cliff almost like a whistle, each drop colliding with the other as it fell before loudly plopping onto the ground. 

The blue of the water like the sky, clean and crisp, some flecks somehow splashing onto her face from such a far distance. 

“It’s…magical,” Dany muttered, spellbound by movement of water attempting to fight gravity. It was like a magnet, compelling her to stumble forward with fixed eyes. 

The nearer she got the more the overwhelming smell of Earth filled her senses, making her reminisce of times between tall grasses and the heady scent of leather and horse jerky. If she just reached an arm out, she could feel the pleasant coolness of the nature enveloping her in its comfort. 

Jon walked to behind her, resting a hand on the small of her sloped back. “Aye, it’s gorgeous.” She could tell he was still smiling, not from gazing upon him but from the enamoured way he spoke. 

The thought compelled her, so she reluctantly fixed her watery eyes on him, the pearly smile on his face as he traced the movement of one droplet in the midst of a million making her want to melt right in that tundra of a field. 

“We could live here for a thousand years,” she said, surprising him and herself. Saying the wish gifted her with courage to continue the bold words. “No one would even know.”

“Hm,” he agreed with the drop of eyes onto her tinted lips, “we’d be pretty old, you know?” he cautioned, compelling her to roll those violet eyes. 

“And anyways,” he pulled her taut against himself, lips pecking her clumsily, “it’s too cold here for a Southern girl like you.”

Dany quirked a brow. “Oh really?” he nodded drunkenly, nipping possessively onto the skin of her jaw. “Then keep your Queen warm, Jon Snow.” 

Jon happily accepted her command, sweeping her into his embrace before catching red lips with his own. Dany almost faltered back from the force, balanced only by the splayed palms on her back that brought her even closer. 

They melted together, each taking turns to lick the taste of the others essence from their mouth. It was harsh, passionate when he bit her bottom lip and growled, before it morphed into what it always did: soft and sensual. Jon licked her upper lip before curling his tongue into her mouth, the taste of lemon from the cakes she’d managed to eat that morning making him groan even more. 

When the lack of oxygen got to them, Dany pulled back slightly, feeling him rumble underneath the palm on his gauntlet. 

“Oh, the things I’d do if we were in your chambers,” he murmured heatedly, pupils dark and fat when he nipped on her lips. Maybe they would live here after they won, together and content. 

~

By the time they walked back to the dragons, Jon was painfully aware of the restrictions of his clothes, the sight making Dany burst with giggles. 

“Oh, shut up you,” he grunted, angry but still willing enough to kiss her clasped hand. He tightened his hold on her fingers, “I will be paid back for that.” 

It would’ve been a threat coming from anyone else mouth, but from his it only made Dany flush, the dark look in his eye something she wondered as only one paint stroke of the true Jon; unabashed and free. “I only wish to please My Lord!” she sang like a green girl, making him chuckle, “so I will gladly repay you to your absolute liking.”

“Oh, what a selfless woman you are,” he retorted sarcastically. 

The dragons must’ve flown around during their departure, new specks of snow embedded between the green and red scales of her sons, their paws freshly wet. 

Dany’s heart relaxed at the sight of more bones meshed into the snow around them, the scent of charred meat and flesh a reminder that maybe things would get better for her sons. 

“You ate,” she cooed at them, placing each hand onto the scales she could reach of the two dragons. They rumbled near, maybe feeling better from a filled belly enough to forget their anger towards her, the thought rendering Dany even more hopeful.

Rhaegal pressed his snout into her palm like he so often would as a babe, before suddenly snapping his neck in Jon’s direction. She didn’t even have to look at her poor Northern fool to feel his immediate stiff posture and utter terror. 

“Dany,” Jon squeaked with panic as Dany turned in her spot, brows furrowing at the sight that should amuse her.

Rhaegal towered over Jon, almost glaring down at him for three painful seconds with jealousy. They didn’t appreciate her attention and affection being for another creature, let alone a _human_ creature. 

His hot puffs of breath fanned across Jon’s frozen and paler than usual face when he moved an inch nearer. She could see her green-scaled sons mouth quiver, knife-like teeth baring under his growls and gruff enough to cause a fit of panic in Dany.

Dany desperately scattered near him; breath hitched as she pondered on why her son was suddenly being so hostile towards a man his brother deemed safe? It wasn’t in his nature to immediately be defensive and harsh towards people, rather; out of all three he was always the most welcoming usually. “Rhaegal,” she called out, hoping she wasn’t emoting the nerves thrumming throughout her body. 

They’d bonded not only an hour ago, so she was baffled by his growls and hisses. Surely Jon couldn’t have done anything enough to make him _so_ mad. 

She reached his neck, immediately placing a splayed palm onto his scales as he neared inches away from Jon’s horrified-looking face. At her touch he momentarily faltered, veering around to look at her with those big milky eyes. 

“What is wrong, my love?” she murmured with a curious look. His large form instantly curled near her, lifting the concern right off Dany’s heart. He purred in a matter of seconds, making her chuckle into the warm scales brushing her face. 

“Are you a pup?” she teased, relaxed, at his wet snout pushing into her belly. He grunted in protest like a whiney child, making her laugh even louder. “Oh, you truly _are_ one, aren’t you?”

Rhaegal only purred into her touch, not caring enough to fight her in the moment, his scales less hostile at the gentle caress on her palms

Day looked away when she heard an incredulous huff, making her quirk her head in Jon’s direction. 

“How do you manage to do that?” Jon mumbled, mesmerized at how she’d somehow made a gargantuan creature curl around her like a lost puppy, basically wagging his tail for attention. 

She shrugged. “They’re my children,” she said simply, smiling at his look of amazement. 

There was no reason for her to say more than that really, because even if she tried stringing articulate-enough words for him to understand he just wouldn't be able to. The bond between her and her children something bigger than an animal and its master, a connection edging on magic, will, and love between very lonely beings.

“No one knows me better than them, and I know them better than anyone else.” Dany petted her second son’s scales for a few moments longer, before deciding to give Drogon the same affection to avoid his grunting and shoving of Rhaegal. 

Jon shook his head. “No, I mean...” he waved his hand up at down dramatically at Drogon, who was purring and lolling in front of Dany for attention. “They-they’re pups!” he blurted incredulously. “Big…scaled and fire-breathing pups.” 

The image made Dany chuckle, because in most ways he was right. 

While the rest of the world may think of them as beasts who listened to her commands, she knew all they wanted was her love and affection. Their devotion to her was of nothing else she’d ever experienced and did not even want to, for that matter. People could think how they wanted because she knew them, she knew her children right to the blood running through their veins. 

Dany encouragingly waved Jon closer, giggling at his immediate refusal moments before reluctantly tiptoeing around the two dragons. She grabbed his forearm when he reached her side, peeling off his glove before placing a palm on Drogon’s scales. 

She shuffled her hand around, observing Jon’s face for some sort of reaction. 

“Do you-” before she could even finish her question Jon suddenly gasped, meeting her eyes before examining the hand on Drogon in disbelief.

“A heartbeat,” he said in amazement, tensing his fingers to feel the gentle yet strong thud of the black-scaled creature’s heart. He swallowed thickly, “It-it’s almost calming.” 

Dany nodded excitedly, feeling pride coat her words. She covered his palm with hers, the one that was almost jumping off the scales as the heart pulsated under it. 

“It’s beautiful. I remember the first time I placed my hand right here when they were barely the length of my leg,” her throat closed, eyes watery, “it reminded me that they were my sons, my children. Maybe scaled instead of skinned, winged instead of legged, but living breathing and _beating_. My three children.” 

Her throat throbbed at a thought, lips quivering. “I’ve lost two sons now,” she confessed. “One from my own idiocy and naivety, the other because of my sense of duty and honour. And though I don’t regret going beyond that dreadful wall I will not let that… _thing_ steal the rest my son deserves after death.” Her head shook. “I can do that little for him, to ensure that his last breath was not stolen only for him to be awaken into this nightmare, no.”

Dany turned to see his reaction, nerves and emotions watery with melancholy. 

Jon only nodded slowly, breathless with his own throat closed while in contemplation of something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. He turned his palm on Drogon to clasp hers, pecking right on her knuckles without breaking contact with her blue eyes.

There was this…glint? Dany couldn’t articulate the right word, but _something_ was emanating from his brown eyes. A sort of determination? Sadness and regret? A mixture of pride and lust?

She didn’t have time to ask before he murmured softly, so quiet one would think he was a frightened lost child. “I will pray to the Old Gods every day,” his breath hitched as he watched her with molten eyes, lips and throat trembling, “I will _thank_ them every day for sending you. Like a messiah you’ve come here I-” he shook his head manically in disbelief before spilling out an incredulous laugh. He pulled her flush against him by the tug of fingers on her coat, tilting her head up to capture those plump lips he loved to devour, to bruise and taste. He groaned into her mouth before parting, still looking at awe before he finally decided on how to end his sentence, thumbing across her wet and swollen bottom lip. “Aye, maybe you really are some kind of god.”

~

When they soared into the sky again, licking every last aching moment of peace they felt together, Jon gazed upon the lands below them in amazement rather than previous amounts of terror. It made Dany’s heart stutter, made her feel like maybe she wasn’t so crazy after all to love this feeling of magic and history, feeling her thighs clench around her scaled son whilst the wind flew through her silver, blasphemes hair. 

It made her feel less alone. 

“Let’s stay up here a little while longer,” Jon murmured into her ear gently against the wind, pleading with a squeeze of his palms on her belly when clouds dispersed and reformed around them. Blue crisp skies counteracting the dull greys and whites of lands and Winterfell’s castle reappearing under their noses. “Just a bit longer,” he almost begged. 

She knew what he meant. It was a sad thought to think of two young lovers being so bound to the ground by burdens and duties, so tangled in these webs they felt compelled to enter that they were not be able to even _breathe_ for god’s sakes. But up here…they were free, just a woman and a man who were terrifyingly in love, enamoured that somehow in this lonely world they’d found an equal, a partner. 

The whistling of wind and the steady sound of Jon’s breath became a song, tingling in Dany’s mind as she breathed in the fresh air. 

Dany nodded, leaning back into the love of her life’s tight embrace. “Yes, bit longer.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let us all form a prayer circle in hopes that those scenes weren't the last of fluff we will witness between these two idiots in love.


End file.
